She seemed to think he was merely the paymaster, handing over the means of her freedom. “Michelle, it’s me, Lucy. The dinner was stranger than she had ever anticipated. “So what is John up to today?” Lucy asked with a weary smile. ‘Doesn’t she, Gerald?’ Gerald held up his hands. ‘Why do you think I told you about the portrait? I’d not seen it, of course, but I’d seen Miss Mary just before she got married, which is when it was painted.
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